


thicker than water

by annperkinsface



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annperkinsface/pseuds/annperkinsface
Summary: Natia comes home from one of her first jobs with blood in her mouth and a scar from eyebrow to chin.(A mediation on sisters and Dust Town.)





	

Natia comes home from one of her first jobs with blood in her mouth and a scar from eyebrow to chin. Leske was worse off; they stumbled through the Commons with his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders, not able to support himself upright, nobles spitting as they passed but with new hatred in their eyes, on their lips. _Carta scum._ Another brand for her face, she thinks, and Natia bears it as stoically as the one she was born with. She was already nothing, but she was less than even that, now. Who knew?

Rica tends to her, just as stoically. They're Dusters, born and bred. Tears are just one of the many luxuries they can't afford, but for how dry her eyes are her sister can't hide the trembling in her fingers as she holds Natia’s jaw still, pouring Mother’s lichen ale over her face. The bottle is near empty when she's done. Mother’s going to pitch a fit.

“Oh, sister,” Rica murmurs at last, pushing Natia’s hair back from her face, fingers lingering near where scar bisects eyebrow. Something in Natia’s throat closes.

"It's a good thing Mother’s counting on your looks, not mine,” Natia says and tries to smile through split lips. She fails. Her voice doesn't sound like her voice. The blood in her mouth is thick, cloying. Death, so much death.

“Stop it,” Rica says, gently, always gently, the only kindness Natia’s ever known. “Scars are honorable. All the best warriors have them; wear them like trophies. It doesn't make you less beautiful, less anything.”

Her sister tells the prettiest lies. They both know Natia isn't—can't ever be—a warrior. She has the strength and the will but not the caste. No honor and glory, not for her. Only dust and rot and death. But that's life. That's Dust Town. And the sad truth is this: even kindness sours, in Dust Town. It wounds, festers. _You're so much more than she says_ , Rica has said, will say, again and again and again. _Sister, you could be a Paragon._

I could be a Paragon but you can only be a whore, Natia thinks, but keeps the words trapped behind her teeth. Love is a shackle of sorts and a heavy one at that. She need only look at the kohl around her sister's eyes, the rogue on her lips to know that. Aren't they both killing themselves for the same thing in the end?

Natia stays her hand. That's love, too. She leans into her sister, still standing over her at the table, and presses her face against Rica's belly.

“Shame about the ale,” Natia murmurs, closing her eyes. “This warrior would like to be a lot less sober before mother comes to.”

Rica’s fingers cup the back of her head, curl through her hair. There is a smile in her voice. “That can be arranged.”

They end up finishing it off, the two of them, giggling like the girls they never really were.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing through the dwarf commoner origin for the first time and man is it like....my favorite one??? Sisters man. Also brosca is the most perfect warden story istg.


End file.
